


straightforward

by qingting



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward teenage crushes, First Dates, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, also futakuchi's mom makes an appearance, for the haikyuuwriters secret santa!!, kyouhaba if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 23:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13134723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qingting/pseuds/qingting
Summary: Asking his crush on a date shouldn't be too hard. It's just Aone, and they've been best friends for three years now, so what does Futakuchi have to be worried about?A lot, apparently.





	straightforward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slothesaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slothesaurus/gifts).



> happy holidays to the amazing [Sloth](http://slothesaurus.tumblr.com/)! first off, i'd like to thank you for being such a cool person and dealing with my nonsense in the ennotana server, and i'm really happy i got to know you! originally i was just gonna go with kyouhaba for this but i decided it would be fun to try and write aofuta! a thousand apologies if characterization is off or anything (this is my first time writing either of them) but i had a lot of fun and i hope you enjoy!
> 
> huge thanks to [mel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsucchi) for looking this over, and [ren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/renshawrites) for bouncing titles with me!

“Hey, Moniwa-san,” Futakuchi says, cell phone tucked between his shoulder and his head and pencil resting in his hand. His mother would probably burst into his room the second he put it down and start yelling at him, so it lies there in the space between his thumb and index finger. If he hadn’t forced himself to take a deep breath and relax earlier, he’s sure he would be twirling it madly right now.

“Futakuchi-kun,” says Moniwa, surprised tone broken up by harsh background noises. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Not really,” says Futakuchi, hugging his knees to his chest and spinning around in his desk chair. “Just wondering what my favorite senpai was up to.”

Moniwa laughs. “There’s definitely something-” he makes a heavy grunting noise, and Futakuchi can hear the phone smack into the ground- “you want,” Moniwa finishes. “Wasn’t Kamasaki your favorite?”

“As if,” Futakuchi scoffs. “I bet he wishes he was anybody’s favorite senpai.”

“You loved him,” Moniwa teases, before Futakuchi can hear him getting hit by something and dropping his phone once again. He takes a moment to say a silent prayer for his phone’s screen. “You were like his bratty little brother. And he was like an older sibling who’d always yell at you for screwing around.”

Futakuchi wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

“It’s true,” Moniwa hums. “Anyways, really, is there anything you needed?”

“How do I ask someone on a date,” Futakuchi blurts out, face immediately burning so red that Moniwa can probably feel it through the phone.

“Hah! There it is,” Moniwa crows. “Little baby Futakuchi’s growing up.”

All Futakuchi can do is grumble “shut up” in response and sink into his seat, chin resting on his knees. Kamasaki would laugh if he saw him like this, curled up like a grumpy hedgehog. “Any actual advice, or should I ask someone else?’

“Is this about Aone?” Moniwa asks, laughing under his breath.

“No,” Futakuchi replies, forcing his voice to stay flat. “What makes you think that?”

“I know I wasn’t the best captain, but have a little respect for your senpai,” Moniwa says. “I have eyes, you know.”

“You were a thousand times better as captain than Kamasaki could have been, but you’re still blind,” Futakuchi argues. “It’s not Aone.”

“Oh?” Moniwa asks, and Futakuchi can just _see_ him raising his eyebrows. “Describe this potential date to me then.”

“They’re in my year-” Futakuchi starts.

“Tall, no eyebrows, in the volleyball club seems scary but is actually really sweet, goes by the name of Aone Takanobu?” Moniwa finishes for him. “Sounds like a great person, Futakuchi-kun, no wonder you have a crush on him.”

Futakuchi groans, pencil thrown carelessly on the desk in favor of pressing his hands to his burning face. “There’s no point denying it, is there?”

“Nope,” Moniwa says smugly. “The quicker you accept it, the quicker we can move on to the asking out part.”

“Well then?” Futakuchi asks. “You’ve gotta know how, right?” Moniwa has a girlfriend who’s a good ten centimeters taller than him and constantly dotes on him, which is part of the reason Futakuchi came to him in the first place. The other part is that he doesn’t trust anyone else to give him serious advice. Pantalons would never stop laughing if he found out.

“Not really,” Moniwa admits. “My girlfriend asked me out pretty straightforwardly, so we didn’t really have to dance around each other. You on the other hand,” he says, and if he were here Futakuchi is certain his eyes would be scanning him, staring deep into his soul. “You don’t do straightforward.”

“I can be straightforward,” he insists.

“You couldn’t even tell Obara ‘happy birthday’ without adding an extra jab in,” Moniwa says. “The only thing you can be straightforward about is volleyball.”

“He deserved it, okay?” says Futakuchi. “I can be straightforward if I treat this like volleyball, right?”

“Are you really going to deal with romance like how you deal with sports?” Moniwa deadpans.

“Uh… maybe?” Futakuchi tries.

Through the phone, he can hear what he assumes to be Moniwa slapping his forehead. “You’re hopeless,” he chides.

Five seconds later, Futakuchi hears Moniwa’s phone hit the floor again. “ _You’re_ hopeless,” he retorts. “Why do you keep dropping your phone, anyways?”

“I’m on the metro,” Moniwa says. “I didn’t manage to get a seat, so I can’t hold onto a handle and call you at the same time. These textbooks are making my arm cramp up,” he jokes.

“I can call you back later, then,” Futakuchi suggests.

“No, it’s okay. Just ask him out like a normal person,” says Moniwa. “Tanabata is coming up soon, right? Ask him to go to the festival with you.”

“How am I supposed to ask him out like a normal person?” Futakuchi whines. “You just said I wasn’t straightforward at all.”

“You’ll figure it out,” says Moniwa. “I have faith in you, captain!”

“I don’t,” Futakuchi snorts, and hangs up.

Hopefully Moniwa will stop dropping his phone and get a handhold now that he’s off the phone, Futakuchi thinks as he grabs a random pillow off his bed and muffles a scream into it. “Stress from school?” his mother asks, popping her head through the doorway.

Futakuchi doesn’t move the pillow from his face. “You could say that.”

 

* * *

 

“You got this,” Futakuchi whispers. “Just ask him, ‘Wanna go to the Tanabata festival together’ like a normal person. Let’s practice. ‘Wanna go-’”

“What are you talking about, Futakuchi-senpai?” Koganegawa asks, large frame filling up the locker room doorway.

Futakuchi jumps higher than Hinata himself and lets out a shrill scream he will deny he ever made to his dying day. “Nothing!” he squeaks.

Obara rests his chin on Koganegawa’s shoulder from behind him. “You sure about that, captain?”

Futakuchi clears his throat, smoothing down his shirt. “Yeah, I’m sure. You okay there, Obara? Your face looks like it got hit with a hot waffle iron.”

Obara snorts. “Nice way of putting it. And yeah, school has kind of been killing me. Being third years and all, you know. Thank god Tanabata is coming up soon.”

“We should all go together!” Koganegawa says, bouncing up and down and knocking Obara’s chin off his shoulder. “I’m gonna beat Sakunami at all the stall games!”

“As long as no one asks me for money for food, I’m good,” Obara says.

“Tanabata?” Pantalons asks, pushing through the two standing in the doorway. “Sounds good.”

“Hey everyone,” Koganegawa yells as the rest of the club begins to filter into the locker room. “Let’s all go to the Tanabata festival together!”

Futakuchi nearly slams into the locker door and does his best to stifle his groan.

 

* * *

 

“Buddy system,” Futakuchi announces. “ _Bud-dy sys-tem._ If any of you get lost and I have to come find you, I swear you _will not_ be able to play at the practice match against Seijou.”

“We’re not children, Futakuchi,” Pantalons drawls. “We know-”

A chilling glare and a head jerk toward Koganegawa’s direction from Futakuchi shuts him up.

“Have fun! Don’t die!” Futakuchi yells at Koganegawa’s retreating back, his awkward, gangly legs struggling to keep up with Sakunami’s sprint. “Don’t kill anyone either!”

Sakunami smoothly maneuvers through the crowd. Koganegawa bumps into at least five people while within Futakuchi’s eyesight.

He pinches his nose and lets out a deep breath as the rest of the group splinters off. Before long, only Aone is left standing by his side. “Second years,” Futakuchi grumbles.

Aone tugs at his sleeve and starts walking over to one of the takoyaki stands.

The yukata he’s wearing fits him nicely, Futakuchi thinks. He didn’t think they made a whole variety for people of Aone’s size, but the color looks good on him. It drapes over his shoulders in this way that makes Futakuchi’s chest feel kind of funny. The one Futakuchi has on is an old hand-me-down from his father, but it was a better option than his school uniform.

Aone walks back to him with a paper plate of freshly cooked takoyaki. “Didn’t we already have dinner,” says Futakuchi, but he pops one in his mouth anyways.

Freshly cooked is an understatement. Futakuchi burns his tongue, sears the roof of his mouth, and painfully swallows down the rest of the octopus. The regret he feels right now can’t be measured. “My throat feels scorched,” he rasps.

Aone quirks one side of his mouth up in a half-smile at him, taking small, careful bites out of his takoyaki.

“I need water,” Futakuchi whines, dragging him over to another stall so he can buy a bottle. Aone lets his gaze wander over to where Sakunami is currently beating Koganegawa at a game while Futakuchi chugs half of the bottle down.

When Futakuchi twists the cap back on, Aone is staring at his neck. Futakuchi brings a hand up to his throat. “What? Did I spill water all over myself?”

Aone shakes his head furiously and quickly stuffs the rest of the takoyaki in his mouth, wincing as it burns the inside of his cheeks.

“You look like a squirrel,” Futakuchi tells him. “You couldn’t save any of the rest for me?”

Aone makes a loud swallowing sound in response. Futakuchi offers him the water bottle and slaps his back when he chokes.

“Where do you wanna go next?” he asks, rolling up the paper plate and stuffing it into an already overflowing trash can. A little girl zooms past him in a full sprint, nearly knocking the water bottle out of Aone’s hands. Behind her, a little boy struggles to keep up and trips over Futakuchi’s toes. He bursts into tears as soon as he sees Aone’s face.

“Uh-” Futakuchi doesn’t know how to handle crying children. He’s always been the baby of the family, what with only having older siblings. The few times he’s interacted with his baby cousins, they were immediately confiscated from him after he carried one of them the wrong way.

Aone stoops down to the boy’s level and makes soft shushing noises, gently pulling the boy’s hands away from his face. As soon as the boy has stopped sobbing, Aone helps him up, pouring water on his scraped knees. The boy wipes his tears off his face and beams at him. As quick as a rabbit, he races off after the little girl.

Aone smiles softly as he watches him run off. Futakuchi lets out a sigh. “Thank god you handled that.”

“Kids are nothing when I have to deal with the biggest baby of all time on a regular basis,” Aone murmurs, and walks off, knowing Futakuchi will follow.

Futakuchi’s jaw drops open. “Did- did you just spend your word quota for the day on roasting me, Aone? You come back here right now, young man!”

Even despite being burned within an inch of his metaphorical life, he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face.

 

* * *

 

“Futakuchi!” Nametsu whispers. “Futakuchi, have I got a deal for you!”

“Not right now,” Futakuchi hisses back. “Nice receive, Sakunami!”

“You’re not even doing anything,” says Nametsu, one hand on her hip, the other holding her phone and clipboard. “Come on, I bet you’ll love it.”

“I’m guiding the team in practice,” Futakuchi insists.

“You’re refilling the water bottles.”

Futakuchi drops one of the water bottles he had insisted on carrying in his arms instead of getting a bag like a normal human being, and the rest come tumbling down like clockwork. “You didn’t see anything.”

Nametsu stifles her laughter. “Come on, Futakuchi. You can spare a few minutes, can’t you?”

“What a responsible manager you are,” Futakuchi deadpans. “I don’t have that much to trade, anyways.”

“Special two for one deal. And a bonus package.”

Nametsu drives a hard bargain. Futakuchi gathers all the water bottles up, stacking them neatly into his arms. He doesn’t even make it two steps before they all fall out again. “Fine.”

“Knew you’d come around,” she says, grinning. “I’ll wait for you outside the club room after practice.”

Futakuchi rolls her eyes. “You’re so desperate, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one with the best supply,” she answers simply. “Even if you are a pain.”

“Says the one who’s distracting the captain and not performing her managerial duties, like filling up the water bottles,” he shoots back. He’s resorted to holding half the bottles and kicking the other half towards the sink outside the gym. “Are you going to help me with these?”

Nametsu beams, hugging her clipboard to her chest. “Nope.”

 

* * *

 

“You have the goods?” he whispers, trying to be dramatic, like they’re two spies exchanging information. _Very_ important information.

Normally Futakuchi walks home with Aone and Sakunami, since they live in the same neighborhood, but today he had told the other two to go on without him. He and Nametsu were going to have another tutoring session, he told them.

He’s pretty sure Sakunami thinks they make out instead of studying. Which is totally not true, considering both he and Nametsu are as gay as the day is long. But Sakunami doesn’t need to know that.

“You bet I do,” she says, whipping out her phone. “Look at this.”

The way their arrangement works is that since Futakuchi does not have easy access to his phone during practice and matches, and thus cannot immortalize Aone’s hot and sweaty glory anywhere else other than his mind, Nametsu takes pictures for him. He calls it “studying Aone’s immaculate blocking techniques”. Nametsu calls it “being thirsty”.

In return, he takes pictures of her crush, Miyamoto Sanae, who is in his class, and exchanges them for Aone pictures. Nametsu calls it “getting inspired by Sanae-chan’s diligent work habits”. He calls it “hopeless pining”.

It works out pretty well for both of them, except neither of them have gotten any closer to actually dealing with their crushes and hopefully not getting rejected.

Nametsu shows him the whole folder before sending the entire thing to him. Futakuchi tries not to making any audible gasps or choking noises as she skims through them, instead humming appreciatively and raising his eyebrows at her every so often.

“And for the bonus package that’ll force you to cherish me as your best friend and make you indebted to me forever,” Nametsu announces. “First, on tonight’s menu, we have a very tender-looking Aone smiling at a young child.”

Futakuchi gapes. “I didn’t see you the entire night,” he admits. “How did you manage to take this?”

Nametsu wiggles her fingers. “Magic.”

Futakuchi squints at her in suspicion, but she’s already moved on, swiping her thumb across the screen.

“Second,” she continues, “we have Aone roasting the volleyball club captain and looking very smug as he does so.

“And last, but not least, we have Futakuchi with his dumb smile as he watches Aone walk off. Look closely, folks, that is a man with a very deep crush. Let’s see if he has the guts to actually do something about it. My money is on Aone asking him out first.”

Futakuchi’s eyes bug out. “Delete that.”

“Never,” Nametsu says. “It’s gonna be my wallpaper now.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Futakuchi says, trying and failing to snatch Nametsu’s phone of out her hands. What good is height when you can’t even intimidate someone twenty centimeters shorter than you?

“That’s not even all of the bonus package,” she laughs, shoving her phone in her bag before he can take it. “There’s more.”

Nametsu pauses for dramatic effect. “Just tell me,” Futakuchi says.

“You really have no style, do you?” she gripes. “Very well then, o impatient one, here they are!” With a grand flourish, she whips out a thin, glossy piece of paper and a piece of plastic in the shape of a credit card and drops them in Futakuchi’s hands.

He stares at her, unimpressed. “A scrap of paper and plastic?”

She meets his stare with her own. “You have eyes, read it.’

The paper is a voucher for one of six preset bouquets from a local florist. The plastic is a 2500¥ gift card to Aone’s favorite restaurant.

Futakuchi looks at her in awe. “You’re a damn genius.”

“I know, I know,” she simpers. “Feel free to go on about how great I am.”

“Moniwa-san said to be straightforward,” Futakuchi mumbles to himself. “I guess traditional is the way to go, too.”

Nametsu slaps his back with more force than Futakuchi would expect from a girl her size -- that is, hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. “Go get him, tiger,” she cheers while he struggles to regain breath.

When his lungs start working again, Futakuchi stands up straight, his whole body in a determined pose from a movie. “Yeah, I got this!”

“You got this!”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah!”

“YEAH!”

“What are you kids still doing here, yelling at each other?” a janitor hollers at them. “Go home!”

Futakuchi and Nametsu sheepishly glance at each other before parting ways, still yelling at each other as they walk in separate directions.

 

* * *

 

Today’s the day. Futakuchi’s gonna do it. He’s really gonna ask Aone out.

…and phrase it like he’s just asking him to hang out, but that’s irrelevant.

“Hey, Aone,” Futakuchi starts, standing there as casually as possible with his arms crossed and his bag slung over his shoulder. He probably looks like an idiot. Aone gives him a look as he zips up his bag that has _Futakuchi what the hell are you doing_ written all over it. He expected that, but it’s still a little embarrassing. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

Aone shakes his head. Futakuchi fidgets with the clubroom keys in his hands as Aone gently shuts the locker door and gathers his stuff together. “So yesterday I found a giftcard for that restaurant you like buried deep in my closet while I was cleaning stuff out,” he says, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck and staring at one of the corners of the room. “I think one of my relatives gave it to me for my birthday. It hasn’t expired yet, so we could get lunch together after practice tomorrow? My treat.”

Futakuchi tries to repress a sigh of relief when Aone nods a simple _yes_. He misses the lock five times when trying to lock the clubroom door; his hands are shaking that hard. Aone takes the key from him and inserts it smoothly into the lock, twisting it shut and dropping it back in Futakuchi’s hands. Futakuchi winces.

The walk home is okay, though, because really, it’s just _Aone_ , and they’ve been best friends for three years now, so what does he have to worry about?

 

* * *

 

A lot, apparently.

“Your wardrobe is even more hideous than my dad’s,” Nametsu says, rummaging through his closet and throwing random shirts on the floor. “I don’t even know if I can make one decent outfit from all the,” she gestures at the piles of clothing littering his floor, “ _ugly_ in here.”

Futakuchi flops onto his bed, letting a weary groan rip out of his throat. “Why did I even let you in here,” he mutters.

“You asked me to help, remember?” she says, yanking him off the bed and shoving a stack of clothes into his chest. “Try these on. They might not look too horrible.”

Futakuchi catches the clothes before they can fall and hugs them to his stomach. “Are you… going to stand there and watch me?”

Nametsu snorts, pulling a fashion magazine and flipping through the pages. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, and besides, it’s not like I’m interested.”

Futakuchi stands there.

She rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she says, snapping the magazine shut. “I’ll wait outside, call me back in when you’re done.”

She steps outside, and then, it’s just Futakuchi, these clothes, and his closet mirror.

He tries them on. They fit okay, and he likes the yellow of the button up. He opens the door to get Nametsu’s opinion.

She looks him up and down. “Nope,” she says, clicking her tongue. “Let’s try again.”

Five outfit changes later, Nametsu is finally satisfied. “It’s not the best outfit I’ve ever pulled together, but you actually look decent for once, Futakuchi,” she admits.

“Thanks,” Futakuchi deadpans.

“My little boy is growing up so fast,” Nametsu says, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. “Going on his first date and trying not to make a fool of himself, how cute.”

“Isn’t that my line?” Futakuchi’s mother asks teasingly from the doorway.

Nametsu blushes bright red and wheels around, stuttering out an apology. Futakuchi’s mother laughs, waving it off with a smile. “Thank you for helping him,” she says. “I was worried he was going to walk out in that ugly green dinosaur shirt he always wears.”

Nametsu’s face twists up. “Oh, not the dinosaur shirt. He wore that on our last team outing and I was embarrassed to be seen with him in public! I had to hide behind Aone!”

Nametsu and Futakuchi’s mother have a nice laugh at his expense. “You guys are so mean,” Futakuchi whines.

“Have a nice date, Kenji,” his mother says. “I’m going to work; don’t forget to finish your homework after you come back.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Futakuchi says, half annoyed.

“Bye, Futakuchi-san!” Nametsu says.

His mother kisses him on the cheek, hugs Nametsu, and then she’s gone.

“Your mom is pretty cool,” says Nametsu.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Futakuchi notices is the cat in Aone’s arms.

“Where'd you get that?” he asks. Aone shrugs.

The cat seems to be in good health. It has a collar, but no tag.

“She,” Aone says.

Futakuchi stops petting the cat to give him a look. “You checked?”

Aone nods.

Futakuchi wrinkles his nose. “Gross.”

Aone refuses to let go of the cat, despite Futakuchi’s insistence that she’d probably run back to her owner as soon as he put her down, so she goes with them to the flower shop. Futakuchi pulls out the voucher suavely once they're standing outside the store, Aone giving him a confused look. “I found this too, so if you wanna pick out a bouquet you can, since I know you like plants,” he says lamely. Aone looks like he doesn't quite believe him, but walks in anyways.

Futakuchi’s poking at a bucket of lilies when a familiar voice says, “Welcome to Sendai Flowers-- oh. It's you.”

He whirls around to face one Yahaba Shigeru, wearing an apron that says “Sendai Flowers” in cursive font and looking terribly bored. “What,” Futakuchi says eloquently.

“Why are you here,” Yahaba says.

Futakuchi arches an eyebrow. “Why do you think we’re here? Getting flowers never crossed your mind?”

Yahaba crosses his arms. “You didn't seem like the kind of person to-- you know what, just hurry up and choose something so I can go on break.”

“That's not very professional of you, is it?” Futakuchi snaps. “Besides, I’m not the one choosing; it’s Aone’s decision.”

Yahaba looks from Futakuchi to Aone to the cat in his arms. “Fine,” he huffs, spinning on his heel and walking into the back room. “I guess if it’s Aone you can take your time.”

“Feeling really loved here,” Futakuchi says.

Aone inspects the bouquets lined up along the wall, holding the cat up to each and every one and nodding when she makes a satisfied mewling noise. Futakuchi bites his lip.

“Didn’t know he had a cat,” a gruff voice says from behind him. Futakuchi jumps.

“You work here too?” he asks.

Kyoutani scowls at him. “What’s it to you?”

“Stop antagonizing the customers,” Watari chides him from where he stands next to Aone, petting the cat. Aone’s smile seems to get bigger every time the kitten purrs at him. It’s horribly cute and it does funny things to Futakuchi’s heart.

“How many of you _are_ there?” asks Futakuchi, choosing to glare at Kyoutani instead.

His question goes ignored. “The sunflowers are a good choice,” Watari says to Aone, nodding. “They’re one of the bouquets available with your voucher.”

“Hey, Kyoutani, come help me in the back,” Yahaba yells.

“What happened to saying ‘please’?” Kyoutani grumbles.

“Don’t make out for too long back there,” Watari calls cheerfully after him.

Futakuchi winces at the scandalized whine Yahaba lets out. “Watari!”

“Gross,” Futakuchi says.

Watari shudders. “I know, right?”

They can’t leave the place fast enough. Aone swaps the voucher for the sunflowers and gives Futakuchi the kitten to hold. As soon as they step out the door, something makes a loud crashing noise in the back.

Futakuchi texts Nametsu, _Please don’t ever give me vouchers for that flower shop ever again._

_What happened?_

_One word,_ he types out, fingers shaking. _Seijou._

 

* * *

 

Futakuchi swears if they bump into anyone else they know, blood _will_ be shed.

Fortunately, the restaurant is okay with Aone bringing the kitten inside. The waiter leads them to a table for four, sets a bowl of milk on one of the chairs for the cat, and leaves them with menus and ice waters.

Futakuchi plays with the cuffs on his pastel blue button down and tries to suppress the sweat he can feel beginning to form on his forehead. He tries to look at his menu and decide on a meal instead of watching Aone smile fondly as he plays with the kitten under the table.

All the advice Nametsu and Moniwa gave him seems to fly out of his head the moment Aone stops playing with the kitten to shoot him a concerned look. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Futakuchi chokes out, feeling more and more like an awkward teenager trying not to make a fool of himself in front of his crush with every second that passes.

The chopsticks won’t seem to cooperate with him. He nearly drops them at least five times, and actually drops them once. _Calm down_ , he wills himself, taking a deep breath and blowing it out as the waiter goes to get him another pair of chopsticks. _It’s just Aone. What are you so worried for?_

It would suck if Aone didn’t like him back, but Aone isn’t the type of person to be put off by things like this. Worst case scenario, Futakuchi confesses, Aone rejects him, Futakuchi makes a joke about it, and they go back to being friends. Futakuchi understands this, and yet, he can’t stop feeling ready to run away and throw up.

“Futakuchi.”

“Yeah?” Futakuchi replies, a bit too fast and a bit too loud, and tries to make it seem like he wasn’t just freaking out internally two seconds ago.

Aone stares him dead in the eye. Futakuchi squirms. “Is this a date?”

Futakuchi’s whole body falls slack. He’s done for. “Uh… well… you know… I mean… uh,” he mumbles. “It can… if you want it to be?”

Aone gives him the _look,_ the _how stupid are you_ look and warning alarms are going off in Futakuchi’s head, someone’s screaming _you messed up you messed up you messed up you messed--_

And Aone takes his hand.

“Oh.” Futakuchi doesn’t know what to do. Aone’s hand is warm and fits in his hand in a way he’d only been able to dream about. “This is nice.”

Aone nods and continues eating his udon.

Futakuchi looks at the sunflowers, the cat, the little baby hairs on Aone’s eyebrows that are finally starting to grow back, and shrugs.

The cat meows back at him, like _everything turned out alright, didn’t it?_

In the end, things feel pretty much the same. Futakuchi walks out of the restaurant feeling like he gained a hundred pounds, Aone’s standing next to him, flowers in one arm and kitten in the other, and Nametsu’s hiding in the bushes.

Futakuchi glares at her, and she tries to disappear. He can still see her ponytail peeking out behind the leaves.

“Wanna go back to my house for Mario Kart?” he asks.

Aone nods, and Futakuchi thinks that’s just going to be it when Aone deposits the kitten in one of Futakuchi’s hands and takes the other, swinging it between them casually. Futakuchi can feel his face heating up. He _hates_ it.

Things might feel the same, but they also feel kind of different, too. And that’s more than okay with Futakuchi.

“I’ll beat you on Rainbow Road this time, I swear it,” he declares.

Aone gives him a look, and Futakuchi knows he’s going to get utterly destroyed no matter how hard he tries.

_Damn it._

**Author's Note:**

> find me [@yaoyoroses](https://yaoyoroses.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


End file.
